


The Care and Keeping of Your Hack Plague Doctor

by ellebb



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, bath time!!, flirting!!, for a prompt, hair washing!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebb/pseuds/ellebb
Summary: "I’ll have you know– my nose isaquilineand quitedignified.”





	The Care and Keeping of Your Hack Plague Doctor

“Your nose,” Xan tried. **  
**

“That’s too easy.  And I’ll have you know– my nose is  _aquiline_ and quite  _dignified_.”

“Hmm.”

Julian tried a wounded look, and nearly convinced with the broad pink flush he wore from the bath water’s heat.  It made the freckles on his shoulders stand out like spilt drops of strawberry juice.  They sat facing each other, the length of their bodies aligned and floaty (with Julian being a bit more scrunched up).  Calves glanced off sides and thigh clung to thigh.

Lavender and soap scents wafted on copious steam rising from the water.

Leaning back against the wall of the brass tub covered in white cotton to protect from burns, Xan slipped a bit further into the froth and her leg broke the bath’s surface.

Her big toe booped him on the nose.  He flinched from the flinging droplets and her brandished foot.

Xan laughed. “Don’t worry.  I like your nose, too.  Very dignified.”

He tried to cover just how much this mollified him by draping his arms over the edge of the tub and flexing his shoulders in the way he knew was so distracting.  And she knew he knew, because he gave her that irritating  _knowing_ look.  The one where he turned insultingly handsome.

“My turn,” Julian said. “Hm.”

She sat a bit straighter, and gave him sparkle-eyes.  Head cocked to the side, he studied her with his full dark brow raised and his fine lips playing with a slow smile.  She dipped her head back, and tossed her wet bundle of pitch-colored hair to the side, fluttering her lashes between dripping strands.

He grinned. “I can’t pick a single thing.  You’re perfectly beautiful.”

She laughed and looked away, lifting a hand to push her hair back. “Don’t be such a quitter.  Everyone has their hang-ups.”

He tilted, still grinning, so that her line of sight framed him again. “Isn’t this the bit where you thank me?”

Xan made herself look back up.  Her hand patted at the water’s surface to splash him a little.

“Okay, handsome,” she said. “Thank you.  That was sweet.”

His smile blossomed from smug to stupid-happy and pink.  Steam clung to his lashes and hair.

“Well?  What’s your hang-up, then?” he asked.

“My feet.”

“What?”

She laughed self-consciously. “My feet.  They’re too big.”

She’d lift one out of the water to demonstrate, but now that she’d said it her gut felt all small and twisted up about it.  Stupid.  She just barely resisted the urge to pulled her legs out from beside him and curl them to her chest.

“But you never wear real boots or anything,” he said, surprised.

She only ever wore flimsy sandals. “Because I like my ankles.  And my legs are just  _glorious_ , so…” She shrugged.

Julian chuckled. “I’m also pretty fond of your legs.  But–” He reached under the water and ran a gentle thumb over the top of her foot. “But your feet are perfectly beautiful, too.”

“Stop, that tickles–” Xan laughed.  She jerked her foot away, but he just captured her ankle and gave her a look that left her far more light-headed than the heat.

She pushed another miniature tidal wave at him. “Okay, okay.  I confessed– now you.”

“Ah.  Well…” he hesitated.

She gave him the sparkle-eyes again– a ridiculous enough face that cracked his sudden tension.  He snorted.

“Don’t do that.  You know I can’t resist that face.”

“Oh yeah?  You  _like_ this, huh?”

“No, don’t– you’re the worst.”

She relented and smiled a normal smile.

Julian coughed. “My hair.”

Her brow rose.

“It’s– ah– very red.  And curly.” He turned extremely pink. “I got teased a lot as a child.”

“Oh noooo,” Xan cooed.

“Yes.  I’ve heard it all– ginger, tomato-head, fire crotch–”

She made a strangled sound.  He gave her a look of stiff hauteur.  She giggled, apologizing until she had herself back under control.

“Portia doesn’t seem to mind.”

“She’s made of tougher stuff.”

“So you still feel weird about it?”

“Well,” he continued. “I’ve mostly outgrown it.  But I used to be miserable over it: tried to dye it black once.”

“Oh,  _Julian_ ,” she sighed fondly.  She propped her head on her arm, balancing on the edge of the tub.  Her eyes softened to a hazy tenderness.

She straightened.  She gestured to him. “Come here.”

He blinked at her.

“Just come on.  Trust me.”

Hesitating a moment longer, he drifted more than swam across the tub’s span to her.  He felt much like a nervy alley cat being coaxed by the scent of lavender and rosehip and a gentle smile.  It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to her touch by now, but he still felt a little raw when she put her hands on his shoulders.  She pushed him softly until he had his back to her.

Somehow this was worse.  He could feel the heat of her behind him, and he could feel the flicking water as she rose on her knees, but he couldn’t see her or gauge her expression.

She squeezed his shoulders, and he felt her soft lips press into his neck and pepper up to his cheek.

“Okay,” Xan said. “Get your hair in the water.”

Julian glanced at her, and she gave him another encouraging cheek peck.  He complied and tilted back.  She pushed up against the wall of the tub to give him room with her torso exposed.  From this position he could admire a great deal of her, but he didn’t feel much like leering.  He hadn’t been lying when he said she was perfectly beautiful.

Resurfacing, he pushed heavy wet curls off his face and sat up.  Her hands pushed his out of the way, combing and raking over his scalp gently.  The sensation made him pause and want to– to  _purr_.  He’d be glad that she couldn’t see his face, but knew that his ears had turned scarlet as well.

She stopped to reach for a glass bottle of shampoo, unstopping it and pouring out a good dollop.  Her hands went back to his hair and slowly worked a lather all over his head.  The smell of soap and flower perfume and the heady lullaby of lavender blanketed his senses.  Her fingers spread and kneaded into his scalp in an easy and slow rhythm.  The tension seemed to flood away from her hands, down his back, and away into the water’s heat.  He found himself leaning back into her, his back pressing into her stomach and breasts.

The contact– the sheer sensation of sharing skin warmth with someone– sat with pleasant heaviness in his chest and surged like syrup to catch in his throat.  He hummed.

Her fingers continued to massage thick suds in his hair until he felt completely weightless and noodle-y.  She rested her elbows on his shoulders, dispersing the shampoo on her hands into the water.

Xan nuzzled her her nose into his cheek. “Ready?”

It took him a moment, but he nodded.  With reluctant slowness he wiggled down to slip his hair back into the water.  With the ocean roaring in his ears under the surface, her fingers found his scalp again.  The same rhythm of kneading continued.  Julian closed his eyes.

Everything felt close and suspended from time and  _good_.

All too soon, her hand tapped him on the collar.  He came up again, and she pressed excess water from his hair.  She was careful about not combing through his curls and frizzing them out.  Her hands found another bottle– hair oil– and worked that in as well.

He sat, content and without a single thought in his head, in her arms with their cheeks resting against one another.

“I like your hair,” Xan whispered. “Very, very much.”

Julian reached up a hand to her arm, stroking into the skin slightly chilled from sitting out of the water for so long.  He shifted and turned his head.

Their eyes met, so close their noses brushed and their lashes danced together.  Their lips so near in a not-quite-a-kiss.  He didn’t have to think– this wasn’t complicated.  It was the simplest thing in the world.  Beginnings are nice in their own ways, once you’re out of the restless pacing and uncertainties of  _what if I’m not enough_  and _there’s no possibility of them ever feeling the same_.  It’s nice to feel nostalgic about that.

But it was better not to have to second guess about capturing her lips and pushing them apart and tasting a response just as warm as his own.

He pulled back to stare at her. “I am very much in love with you.”

Red, she smiled. “Mmm.” She pressed yet another of those light nibbles to his cheek.

“What a coincidence,” she murmured.


End file.
